


Isn't It F**king Romantic

by micehell



Category: Leverage
Genre: Humor, M/M, a tiny bit of angst, set early in the show, something like romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-02-11
Updated: 2009-02-11
Packaged: 2017-11-12 01:05:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 824
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/484903
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/micehell/pseuds/micehell
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There was a voice in Alec's head, sounding suspiciously like Eliot, that told him that sitting here watching Eliot sleep was kind of a chick thing to do, but Alec just embraced his inner romance novel heroine and went right on waiting.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Isn't It F**king Romantic

Alec knew what Eliot did. He'd shown him, right from that first job. But knowing it, and living with what it meant, those were two different things.

Nathan put his hand on Alec's shoulder, squeezed. "I know you're thinking he's going to kill you when he wakes up, but, while he might threaten it, he won't really do it."

It was supposed to be comforting, but Alec _almost_ could wish it wasn't true. "I fucked up. I was out of place, and I knew I was. And if I hadn't been, then he wouldn't have been." It was all running together, his words just getting tangled, but the good thing about Nathan was that he knew how to listen between the lines.

"Hey, he's going to be fine. Yeah, you were out of place, and we're certainly going to talk about you and this recent trend towards late night gaming sessions and the consequences they have on the job, but…"

He trailed off, and Alec could guess what he was thinking about. Alec wasn't the only one who'd endangered a job with a bad habit, but at least Nathan hadn't gotten Sophie beaten up doing it. And not that Alec was ever going to mention to Eliot that he'd compared him to Sophie, but that's just how upset he was. 

Nathan left him alone then. There was a voice in Alec's head, sounding suspiciously like Eliot, that told him that sitting here watching Eliot sleep was kind of a chick thing to do, but Alec just embraced his inner romance novel heroine and went right on waiting.

It was late when Eliot finally did wake up, grumpy about having to do it, just like usual. But he didn't blast into Alec like he'd been expecting, instead going for confusing him with, "Damn, I missed Valentine's Day."

Of everything Alec had been expecting him to say, that was so far down the list it hadn't made his list at all. He'd been practicing his replies to the ones that actually had made the list -- _I'm sorry_ , _I'm really very, very sorry_ , _Fuck man, I'm fucking sorry_ , and _Please don't kill me_ had been in there a lot -- and was kind of at a loss now that he was faced with the anomaly. But Eliot always had been determined to screw up his calculations, and all Alec could come up with was, "Did you have plans?"

Eliot snorted. "Of course I had plans, man. It's Valentine's Day. I was going to cook you dinner and everything."

And, really, that was even further off the list than the first thing, and Alec was out on open water, no land in sight, and sinking fast, because the inner romance novel heroine was getting a little misty-eyed here, but the rest of him was waiting for the other shoe to drop. "Oh. Well. That sounds… romantic."

That got him another snort. "It's _Valentine's_ Day. You're supposed to be fucking romantic."

There was definitely a quality of 'get the fuck with it' in Eliot's voice, and the sarcasm plus the utterly unromantic 'fucking' finally sounded enough like Eliot that Alec knew what to say. "I'm sorry."

And there was no way Eliot was going to pretend that he didn't understand, because Eliot was actually more comfortable talking about things that you'd expect from the macho prick, but he never seemed to handle anyone apologizing to _him_ well. Just another one of the many neuroses that made sleeping with the man an adventure. Eliot squirmed for a moment, but finally managed to take the apology by turning it into something else. "Yeah, well, you could make it up to me." 

There was an exaggerated wiggle of his brows, just in case Alec was really dumb. Or had never met him before and didn't know that Eliot was a sex-addict in search of a twelve-step program that _didn't_ require him to give up sex.

Not that Alec was complaining about that, really. He would never survive that program himself.

He wasn't complaining about doing this, either, hands careful of bruises as he pulled Eliot's dick free of his boxer-briefs, licking around the head once before he took the rest in. He wasn't as good at it as Eliot was, still too quick to gag, but he was getting better. And there was something almost magical about watching all that prickly surface disappear beneath something far more tractable, almost, _almost_ sweet, like in that moment, sated and happy, it was too much effort for Eliot to keep the walls in place.

Alec didn't gripe when Eliot fell asleep right after. If he'd been in place, they could have done this the right way. Apparently even with dinner first. 

He settled back to wait, he and the inner romance heroine in agreement on this. After all, there were still four more hours of Valentine's Day, and Alec still had plenty of fucking romance left.


End file.
